Page 14 of Redemption

After I stalked Abigail home from the bar last night, I couldn’t sleep. So, I return to her apartment building before six AM. Which is a good thing, because she leaves her building at six-thirty.

Judging by her black t-shirt and dark wash jeans, she’s not going for a morning run. So, she’s probably heading to work. Likely in the service industry, considering her simple outfit and the early hour.

I’m not usually one to ponder career choices, but I find myself wondering if she’s content in her shabby little apartment with her low-paying job. A woman like Abigail should be dressed in silks and jewels, not practical cotton and jeans.

Once she’s mine, I’ll make sure to dress her up in a way that pleases me.

I shake off the strange thought and follow her down the street, keeping a careful distance so that she won’t notice me.

I’ve never kept a woman before. It’s never even crossed my mind. Not only do I get bored easily, but I know better than to risk forming a long-term relationship that might reveal my true nature over time.

A few nights with Abigail will surely be enough to sate my curiosity. And my lust.

My sleepless night wasn’t only due to anticipation over seeing her again; I’ve wrestled with a raging hard-on ever since she trembled against me in the shadowy corner of the bar.

In another strange choice, I didn’t slake my needs. Jerking off would have felt oddly like surrender. Defeat.

I will conquer Abigail, not the other way around. I won’t allow anyone to make me feel weak. Certainly not a fragile, submissive woman.

I’m thoroughly in control of this seduction. She’ll learn that soon enough.

We’ve only walked three blocks when she ducks into a small café. The lights are on, but the sign is still flipped to “closed”. I check my watch. It’s likely that the Sunny Side Café opens at seven. Possibly even later.

I harden my resolve. I’m not so desperate that I’ll barge in the moment they open.

Abigail will needme, not the other way around. She’ll beg and moan my name, and then I’ll finally be satisfied.

She’s disappeared into the back, so I can’t even see her through the large windows that provide a clear view into the café.

I roll the odd tension from my shoulders and saunter off down the street.

I’ll have to meet Meadows at our new premises by nine. Our practice officially starts operating next week, and we need to make sure everything is in order. We already have an impressivewaitlist of patients, thanks to my partner’s local connections and our shared reputation that we built in Baltimore.

Now that I’ll have my own practice, I can be more discerning with my cases. And with my schedule.

I can make time for Abigail if I want to.

I smooth away my grimace at the errant thought. The woman is getting under my skin, and I’ve barely spent an hour with her.

Surely, a little more time in her company is all I need to prove to myself that she’s nothing special. Beautiful and beguiling, but not special.

She’ll be imperfectly human, just like every other person I’ve ever met: simple and easily manipulated. Easily exercising control over everyone around me does satisfy me, but the shallow interactions can be tedious at times.

I wander away from the café for a while before I stop in one of the only open shops, where I buy an insipid magazine about local interests. Then I find a park bench where I can sit to pass the time for an hour or so.

While I wait to approach my prey, I can at least learn a little more about my new home here in Charleston. My patients are gratified when I show interest in their small little lives. It’s irksome, but it’ll help grow the practice. I’ll earn even more money, be even more secure.

I don’t need my family’s fortune to live a life of luxury. The first few years of university were hard, but nothing will ever make me go begging for a handout from my father.

You’ll be back.My mother’s final, spiteful words echo through my mind.You can’t make it on your own, Daniel. You can’t embarrass the family like this. What will our friends say if you give up your title and run away to America like a pathetic coward who can’t face his duties?

I shake off the memory and redirect my focus to the article about an upcoming garden tour in Charleston’s historic districts.

I haven’t thought about that altercation with my mother in years.

It’s possible that Abigail’s obvious financial struggles are making me recall the years when I had to scrape by too; before I earned my medical degree and established my reputation as a skilled surgeon.

I manage to read another article about a nearby plantation before I think about the wad of one dollar bills Abigail pulled out of her wallet when she tried to pay for her cocktail last night.

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